In the grim gloom of the basement, a flicker of movement in the distance caught my attention. Through a narrow window, the distinctive silhouette of Maroth's carriage was seen quickly pulling away into the night.
Sera and I exchanged a brief glance. Understanding passed between us in the unspoken language of shared purpose and raw determination. Her eyes were hard as steel, her jaw set in grim determination. We knew what had to be done.
Wordlessly, I swept Sera into my arms. She was surprisingly light, her lean form fitting seamlessly against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, quick and steady, mirroring my own. With a deep breath, I tightened my grip around her and took off.
Relying on my S-tier speed, I sprinted towards the receding carriage. My feet pounded against the cobblestone street, each stride bringing us closer to the target. The cityscape around us turned into a blurry streak of lights and shapes as we cut through the cool night air.
Behind us, the faint cries of the freed children echoed in the distance, a haunting symphony to our relentless pursuit. It only fueled us forward, the chase igniting a fire in our veins that burned brighter with each passing second.
The sound of thundering hooves and the rattling of wooden wheels intensified as we drew closer. With one final burst of speed, we soared up into the air and landed gracefully onto the roof of the carriage. The structure trembled under our sudden added weight, but it held steady.
Using my S-tier strength, I raised my fists high above my head and brought them down hard on the roof. The impact sent splinters flying as the wood caved under the force, revealing the carriage's dimly lit interior.
In a swift motion, I dropped through the gaping hole I created, landing smoothly on the cushioned bench. Sera alighted from my back, her sword drawn and her eyes wide with anticipation.
Maroth was seated on the opposite bench, a surprised yelp escaping his lips as I reached out to grab him by the collar. His eyes were wide, reflecting the moonlight that streamed through the torn roof. But as I looked closer, realization dawned on me.
This wasn't Maroth. The man before us was older, his face rounder. His clothes were similar, but the stench of fear that radiated off him was too genuine. This was a stunt double, a decoy used to distract us.
My grip on his collar slackened as a feeling of cold frustration washed over me. We had been deceived. The chase wasn't over.
The man trembled as he stammered, his voice hoarse with fear, "P-Please don't h-hurt me! I-I'm just an actor!"
I glared at him, my jaw clenched, "Where is the real Maroth?"
"I-I don't know," he whimpered, shrinking back against the plush seat, "I... I was just told to ride this carriage in one direction... I saw him going the other way."
The realization hit me like a punch in the gut. Maroth had fooled us. He was already making his escape into the free city of Mamoth. My grip on the man loosened completely, my anger flaring not at him, but at myself for falling into such a simple ruse.
Q: Have you been pranked in real life before?